Pastor with a past guides flock to the future

The Rev. Ron Christian was in South Jersey last week, ministering to one of his flock, when his cell phone rang.

Jennifer Brown/The Star-LedgerRev. Ron Christian

The caller was a parishioner with an urgent message: Nicole Guyette needed to see him.

Guyette, 18, was not just anyone in distress. At that moment, she was one of Newark's most wanted, accused of murdering Sujeiti Ocasio hours after Ocasio graduated from Barringer High School.

Christian sped back to Irvington. He sat with Guyette for an hour in his office at Christian Love Baptist Church. The two prayed. They talked about remorse, forgiveness and God's spirit, he says.

Then he called the cops, who came and led the young woman away in handcuffs.

Guyette, who has no direct ties to the church and had never met Christian before June 28, was the latest person to seek out the pastor as an intermediary before surrendering to police.

It is a role Christian, 43, has played often in the past two years.

In September James Madison, the so-called Hat Bandit, initially rejected an offer to plead guilty to robbing banks. He changed his mind after speaking to Christian, his pastor, about closure and responsibility.

"I encouraged him to do what was right," Christian said. "Regardless of how incorrect or how bad the circumstance was, there needs to be a place where you are honest with God."

Two years ago, Bernard Hoover, a man wanted for murdering his father, contacted Christian through a relative. The 21-year-old wanted to attend his father's funeral at Christian Love Baptist Church and wanted to see his mother before the police took him into custody.

He was arrested at the church.

Then there are the smaller, low-profile cases. There was a drug dealer eluding police in Trenton who asked to speak to the pastor before he surrendered.

"If you have a serious problem, especially murder, you can't run into an average church and say: 'I just killed someone. I don't know what to do,'" said Christopher Carson, chairman of the church's deacon board and one of Christian's childhood friends. "They'll close the office door and call the police."

Parishioners say it is not surprising that those in trouble with the law seek out Christian. A sign posted above the front door, "All sinners are welcome," embodies the pastor's reputation as a nonjudgmental leader who cares about the community, not just the church.

THROUGH IT ALL
The church sanctuary, crammed even on a Wednesday night service, is a cross-section of the community. At its helm is Christian, who regularly spins the story of his own downward spiral of drugs, theft and prison into his energetic, concert-like sermons. Those demons he eventually mastered, people say, are the chief reason people in distress turn to him.

"People who know Pastor Ron know Pastor Ron has gone through a lot of trials and tribulations," said Antawan Washington, 38. "He came through the dirt like everyone else."

Pamela McGill, 53, of Newark, said she was not surprised to hear Guyette contacted Christian.

"The pastor is a guy of love and compassion," McGill said. "He has a heart for the people. He doesn't judge you, and he always welcomes you with a hug and a word from the Lord."

Christian reaches into his past because it inspires those who are down and out. In the late 1990s, he began using heroin and became so addicted that 14 stints in rehab couldn't shake the habit. He lost his home, his job as a correction sergeant at Northern State Prison and the trust of his friends and family.

Eventually the Newark resident landed in prison in 1996 for stealing money from the Department of Corrections. When he got out of prison in December 1997, he joined Clearview Baptist Church in Newark. His father, a retired pastor, was doing work at the church.

Christian went to rehabilitation centers and homeless shelters and started preaching. One day someone suggested he follow his father's footsteps and become a minister.

He took courses and became licensed.

In 2000, he became pastor of Christian Love Baptist Church, which had fallen into a state of disrepair and was on the brink of bankruptcy. It had just a dozen members.

Since then, membership has soared to 6,000.

It was one of those church members who connected Guyette with Christian. When the pastor walked into the room to meet her last week, the teenager was shaking and scared, Christian said. He had already alerted the police to stand by.

After an hour of counseling, she was ready to face police.

"Ron, to his credit, is very much in touch with the people in the community," said the Rev. Reginald Jackson, president of the Black Ministers Council of New Jersey. "He gets those who have problems. He identifies with how they feel, and they embrace him."

Christian said he thinks suspects turn to him because they need help reconciling God with the law.

"I think they want spiritual guidance. I think they want to know what God has to say about the circumstance that they're in," he said. "And I think they want instruction on how to apply God's law with man's law with the right outcome."